


Gotham is a blessing and a curse

by LiesandTruths



Series: A concrete heart [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Body Horror, Dark, Gotham City - Freeform, sorta idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiesandTruths/pseuds/LiesandTruths
Summary: Gotham clings to her children, sinks her teeth and never lets go. Forces the rest of the city to acknowledge her and her prize until they can do nothing else but fall into her clutches.





	Gotham is a blessing and a curse

They say Gotham made the Bat, that those who were raised on a diet of blood and shadows would know nothing more than Gotham. This is not true, of course. The Bat’s of Gotham were most definitely human. They bled and fought and felt just like you and me. However the stories that children chant, and drunkards laugh at have a kernel of truth.

Cities embody those closest to them, their protectors and the ones who flirt with their light, or darkness, anything in between. The cities steal their way into people's hearts minds and souls until all there is left is asphalt, and concrete, and metal, and blood.

Gotham did not choose one person, and she did not choose the most loving, or caring, kind, or gentle person either. She chose a family. A chosen family she pushed and pulled into creation until she had the perfect hosts. But what out her apart from the other cities who took over the bodies of the ones who love them so, Gotham blessed them. It was the least she could do after giving them a life of pain and hardships and suffering.

Bruce, with his loving eyes and deep secrets. He was to be her history. All of her past embodied, into one person. Alive as long as her history was known. Deep puddles for eyes lost to time, again and again. Organs falling out of use and heart turning to metal.

Bruce was very close to losing his mortality and it scared him, but she gave him steel hair, and asphalt gray skin, crumbling and hard. And so he persevered, unchanging against the ravages of time.

Dick, was the golden child. Brow-beaten worker ascending into greatness. He embodied those soft gentle moments where time felt endless and uninhibited. He balanced on the edge of flying and falling. Soaring like a bird before plummeting only to catch himself and start the pattern all over again. He was farthest away from Gotham and yet Bludhaven loved him all the same. Pressing neon kisses into his hair and leaving acidic sharp trails in his wake.

People who met him were blessed with golden dreams, or nightmares they never awoke from.

Jason was the fighter who lost the battle. He was the street kids who don’t make it through high school, and the families left broken and torn apart. He gleamed with that, lost, gone, broken, bloody, _shine_ of his and those radioactive green eyes that itched of other cities taint. So Gotham replaced them, beautiful glowing eyes, headlights or a flickering street lamp. He was mesmerizing and hypnotic. He was dead and alive and he was Gotham’s, the dead carved canyons into his brain and left their mark on his bones. Their screams torched his ears until it was all he could hear.

Tim was the noble son, following the beaten trail until he carved his own way. Pushing through vengeful souls and clacking words, Tim was the people. He was the public’s united front, a desperate pleading people who wanted to die or live or something. Tim couldn’t make up his mind and neither could Gotham. It tore at him, pushing him and running him ragged. Until his eyes shut and his head collapsed. Gasping for air he did not need, and running from things that could not hurt him were what he dreamed of and it stung. Gotham’s warning in his head, following him and chanting their beckoning, painful calls. He knew everything that was happening and remembered so much more.

His face faded into anonymity in crowds and stood out on podiums, and _yet,_ he was so distinctly himself, there wasn’t a person who forgot his face.

Stephanie was the dancing daylight and sun of Gotham. Stunningly beautiful when she was there, but torn and pushed away for the darker clouds. Dead and withering from the thick layers of smog, and closed cave doors. Dying and distant. Reflecting life in a pale but breathtaking version of herself in the night, giving her all in the day and yet, people missed her when she was gone but never could see her when she was there. She was the backbone, everything flourished when she was alive, but withered and decayed when she left. She breathed life into the cold streets of Gotham and Gotham gave back. whispering into her ear all of the secrets that were housed in the city. giving her twinkling hair and light feet, riding on moonbeams almost invisible through the Gotham skyline.

Soft, unnoticeable steps, and a quiet invisibility became who she was— until her feet faded from sight and her fingertips left burning marks on whatever she touched. Bruce was stunned when she showed him what she could do, he never thought Gotham would pick her.

Cass was an anomaly. Gotham loved anomaly’s. As the girl tiptoed over the roofed apartment buildings, and skyscrapers made of gleaming metal and glass, Gotham studied her. Cass was a pile of broken glass and unhealed wounds, shaped bits and pieces to make a deadly, beautiful weapon. So Gotham watched until Cass shoved her way into its approval and gained her blessing. Scars slipped away while she slept and old aches faded. The damage done to her vocal cords was sucked out of her like honey leaving the jar, slow and sweet, but so rewarding when finished. _Eyes _sprouted upon her arms and feet and chest. Gentle nudges here and there showed Cassandra where the hidden places were, and where the broken bits Gotham could not fix were, in hopes Cassandra could. Cassandra was Gotham’s eyes, unblinking and always watching, never letting go and understanding but never truly speaking.

Duke came next, he was a headstrong, charming boy. Full of level headed, cool, anger, and little self esteem. Gotham fed off of his grief and channeled that pain and sorrow into a double edged sword. He was the victims that never got to say goodbye. He was a painful reminder of all the ways Gotham had failed and so he grew. Gotham gave him the followers and the mentors, she gave him the costume and the fame. She let him blossom under her unknown tutelage and she was proud. So when he healed too fast and recovered too quickly and glowed just a little too brightly and those in his care _never_ got worse than a bruised knee Alfred turned a blind eye and nodded as he left.

Damian was the newest, Gotham knew who he was the moment he stepped into her city. He was fire and brimstone and everything left undecided. He was her future, little, broken, and still a bit lost, but growing all the same. Pushing himself to his limits and pulling others with him. He dragged bodies and broken bones alongside him and Gotham swallowed them up, sacrifices and offerings, Talia had taught him well.

Gotham took Damian in and gave him terrifying visions and sharp ears. He tore at his eyes until they could see no more and yet the visions remained. Unseeing eyes of the present but the future was an open book. He heard everything and saw even more. He saw his future and his family and the worlds, and yet he could still do nothing. He still died, and he still came back, and he still couldn’t fix a thing. Gotham held him as he wept, burdening him with painful truths and harsher stories.

Gotham chose her children and they chose her, loved her and fought for her until their dying breath and beyond. The blessed her streets clean of blood and unjust killings and gave back to her their sweat, and blood, and tears until she had drained them dry and replaced them with nothing but concrete and lead; bloody versions of themselves. Doomed to be their eternal saviors or earths eternal damnation.


End file.
